


Overdose Perception

by xenobia4



Category: Avengers (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcoholic Tony Stark, Anxiety, Depression, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-20 21:10:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15542220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xenobia4/pseuds/xenobia4
Summary: Tony reflects on things he has done and things that have been said, but his primary focus lands on his childhood hero: Steve Rogers.





	1. Dejection

**Author's Note:**

> Tony Stark is my baby. I love everything about his character and always have.   
> In the comic-verse, I will ALWAYS ship Tony and Steve. And with the films, they were my only ship until Civil War (and Steve broke my heart by treating Tony like he did).   
> That being said, I did this prior to Captain America: Civil War. It's post Avengers, but pre-Age of Ultron, when Super Husbands were my only MCU OTP.

**1:** **Dejection**

 Ice clinked against a short glass when it was nearly slammed down on the glass table in the main living room. Eyes did not even trail from the television showing a news story as more gin was poured into the now-empty glass. Once the glass bottle was set down on the table, Tony brought the glass to his mouth, taking a bit more than a sip, too focused on the screen to even notice when his glass had emptied yet again. When he brought it back up and only felt ice hit his upper lip, he finally glanced down to see his fourth glass gone. Or at least he thought it was his fourth. Who knew? He lost track a half-an-hour ago. Reaching for the bottle again, he had just touched the neck to the rim when the female newscaster grabbed his attention. He brought the bottle down slowly as the headline ran across the bottom of the screen.

“Also on the roster this evening: is Tony Stark losing his edge? That was the question this afternoon when the deal with Thorton Enterprises went south. Originally said to revolutionize how the world would view clean energy, it proved ill-fated when the stated ‘stabilized prototype’ ruptured, injuring two CEOs and destroying the upper floor of the Wooten Business Center in Lower Manhattan. With this occurring merely a week after Stark’s failed attempt at creating a sustainable hovercraft, which went awry and injured several people, many people are beginning to believe that he will burn out and doubt that he will obtain the same notoriety as his well-known father, Howard Stark.”

A crash echoed around the room as the empty glass had hit the wall right below the television screen; shattered glass shot around the room and ice broke when it hit the floor. The television shut off and Tony fell back against the couch with the bottle still held by the neck in his hand as he stared at the now-black screen. With his free hand, he tapped on the arc reactor; his other hand fumbled around with the bottle as he set it on his leg.

This past week had been nothing but disappointments and failures; whether it was with the company, with something he had created faltering or when he was with the group. Not that that was any different than usual back-and-forth banters, but after last week’s battle against a some creature from no-one-even-knew-where, which had Clint nearly end up in the emergency room after something caused Tony’s suit to malfunction and fire in his direction, Steve made sure to hammer it into him that he needed to be more careful. That and, just like the media, the Captain had been continually comparing Tony to his father, and not in a complimentary way.

If it were anyone else, he would not care and just brush it off, but, for some reason, it being Steve saying the same things had his mind pressing against itself. Maybe it was because it had come from his childhood hero. Or maybe it was because it had come from him, he felt as though he had somehow let down THE Captain America, therefore letting down his inner child.

He let his head fall back on the couch and his hand drop next to him. Holding the bottle up, he sloshed the liquid around it, wondering where the rest of it had gone: there was only enough for two glasses left. He did not think he had that much. Then again, he had started on it the moment he got back, after having JARVIS go into sleep mode, and that was well over an hour ago: his glass had not been completely empty once. Speaking of which, he lifted his head before groaning at the shattered remains of his glass.

Definitely not up to getting up to get another glass.

Holding the bottle back up, he did not bother to contemplate it much before drinking straight from it. The burn down his throat was a welcome and the rest of the bottle was gone much quicker than he anticipated – and he began to feel every bit of it; which perhaps was the very same reason he felt pressure in his lower abdomen. A groan escaped his throat at the thought of physically moving. Yet, when he tried to ignore it, he also realized that he would have to get up to get more alcohol, anyway.

A lose-lose situation.

When he stood, the amount of alcohol in this system finally made itself apparent. The entire room looked as though it was a warped corridor, with corners lifting and curving; with that and the tunnel vision, he hit the couch, nearly falling back onto it. Inhaling, he stumbled as he forced one foot in front of the other. The floor seemed to move as he tried to make his way to the bathroom, his peripheral vision closing in around him from being well-beyond the point of being buzzed. He had to use the wall for balance, keeping his entire forearm on the wall for better stabilization. With his arm holding the bottle on the doorframe of the bathroom, the lights turned on from the motion, flickering a moment before staying on. He set his head on his arm, eyes shut as he tried to get the room to stop spinning. As though seeming to just notice he was still holding the bottle, he brought his arm down to toss it into the trashcan by the door; it hit the bottom with a hollow _thunk_. The marble to the sink was cold to the touch as he gripped the rim of it, keeping himself balanced. Taking in a breath, he brought his gaze up to look at his reflection in the mirror. If he could be honest with himself, he would admit that he looked like hell. Eyes sunken in and face tired with his usually up kept hair a mess – or perhaps that was the alcohol talking.

Shame Beer Goggles did not seem to work on oneself.

He had to keep his grip on the edge of the sink when he turned to face the latrine, otherwise he highly doubted he would be able to stay standing; so, with one hand, he was trying to work his zipper. It took a few attempts and he nearly stumbled backwards, but he managed to get the job finished. However, he did fall backwards when he went to zip himself back up and had to catch his balance back on the sink. The latrine flushing on its own was at least one less thing he had to try reaching out for.

Once he managed to stop swaying, he reached up to grab the corner of the mirror and pull it open. When it squeaked, he made a mental note to fix that in the morning. He had to squint and lower his head to try and read what was in the cabinet; all of the labels on bottles and tubes blurred together. He snatched one and brought it mere inches from his face, squinting and angling the bottle to read it. Seeing that it was not what he was looking for, he put it back and grabbed a different one in a generic white bottle. Doing the same thing, he shut the mirror. Now to make it back to the couch in the living room without falling – it seemed like such a daunting task.

Again trying to keep himself balanced, he had to keep one arm on the wall to go back to the room. As he reached the boundary, he made a side trip to the bar against the wall, making sure to ignore the pieces of broken glass from the shattered remains of his earlier glass. He grabbed one of the clean, upside down glasses, making sure to drop a few cubes of ice in it from the bucket before deciding which poison to indulge in next. It all came down to rum or _patrón_. Since the _patrón was stronger, it was no-contest._

Making his way back to the couch, he nearly fell onto it when his foot hit the base. He took the moment of relaxation before sitting up to set everything on the table. He pulled the cork out of the bottle and poured more than he should have into the glass, filling it a little over halfway. When he took a drink, it burned much more going down and dropped in his stomach, which contents were only bile and alcohol. He snatched the pill bottle from where he had set it on the table and leaned back on the couch with the glass in hand, allowing his body to sink into the cushions. Shutting his eyes, he tried to bring himself to relax, but his mind would not stop racing, replaying every moment that had been occurring throughout the last week – and even before.

Being constantly yelled at by the Captain, all of the malfunctions he had been experiencing, injuring civilians, why he could not seem to fix the calibration on his flight stabilizers – not that anyone needed to know the latter part of that. The fleeting thought that he could see if Dr. Banner would not mind helping him get it fixed ran through his head, but that entailed letting someone else know of another failure.

The thought made his stomach turn.

What made the knot grow larger was when he kept recalling everyone comparing him to his father; even Steve would continue to make his disappointment apparent, by saying “Howard would have fixed that problem beforehand” or “your father wouldn’t have been so careless.”

It was aggravating – no.

It pissed him off.

Opening his eyes, he twirled the pill bottle between and over his fingers, making the pills rattle inside. Liquored up with a handful of sleeping pills and he would never have to be compared to his father again; he would never have to be concerned with letting his hero down again; he would not have to be so attentive to everything and all of the stress would  be gone. His thumb traced under the lid as he held it still. Sitting up and popping it open, the pills sounded like hollow dice as they rolled out onto the table in a semi-scattered pile. With his index and middle fingers on two different pills, his slid them around through the pile, making a cut line.

It would be so easy.

One after another.

Until all of them were gone.

No more pressure, no more stress, no more backlash – nothing.

A sudden laugh made its way out of his throat at the thought of how many people out there wished they were in his shoes. From their eyes, to have everything: money, power, fame. To be known worldwide and have just about anything at their own request. It was the average person’s fantasy; but they knew nothing of the condemnations that came with it.

Because, even with all of the success, he had nothing to truly show for it. After all, he was alone once the day was over.

Another chuckle.

Looked like Steve had been right: without his suit, he was nothing. Granted, he already believed that, but having it said by his idol…hurt. If that could be the right way to explain it. Maybe he did not deserve any legit happiness – he had caused enough war and deaths and that type of person definitely did not deserve peace of mind. He did not deserve to still be alive – he knew that, more than anyone; which was why he, once again, found himself contemplating the same thing night after night. Why could tonight not be different?

He held one of the pills in front of his face.

It would be like going to sleep.

Of course, knowing his luck, if there was a Hell, he would probably have a First Class ticket.

With his _patrón_ glass in one hand and the pill in the other, his contemplation seemed to be through. Slowly, he brought the white caplet to his mouth and, pausing for only a moment, passed it through his lips and held it lightly between his teeth. As he brought up the glass, he seemed to give it one last thought before shutting his eyes and downing the pill in one swallow. Exhaling, he opened his eyes to grab another one.

* * *

“See you decided to grace us with your presence, this morning.”

“Bite me, spandex.”

Tony fell down in the chair closest to the entrance, which was one seat away from Steve, making it spin slightly before he put his hands on the table to spin it directly parallel. With his elbows set on the table, he rubbed his face with his hands, making sure to pay attention to his eyes, which throbbed with the semblance of a hangover. He released a sigh as he brought his hands down, looking around the room. “Well, if this was so important, why are we the only two here?”

Before Steve even had a chance to respond, footsteps clicked on the floor as the door pushed back open, drawing both of their attentions. “Don’t you look amazing this morning,” Bruce spoke in Tony’s direction as he took the seat to his left.

“What are you talking about?” Natasha was in behind him, followed by Clint, who ended up sitting directly across from them. “I look amazing every morning.”

“I can smell the alcohol from here,” Natasha commented, drawing a snicker from Clint and a chuckle from Dr. Banner. Tony just raised his eyebrows to let them fall as he gave off his usual uncaring demeanor.

“Drinking?” Steve asked, as though in disbelief. Tony’s eyes darted over to him, expression impassive. “A bit reckless, don’t you think? What if you were needed?”

Tony rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Apparently I was needed. And it obviously didn’t impede my cognitive abilities – I’m here, aren’t I?”

They locked eyes and the tension was apparent across the table, whereas Bruce and Natasha exchanged glances, though hers was not as obvious. Unfortunately, the back-and-forth banter was something they had all become accustomed to over the last few weeks, much to their dismay. Though not a problem at first, the stress it was causing could be seen whenever they were called to do something – anything.

The Captain’s jaw was clenched as he gave an all-too-common look to his ally. “Is everything a joke to you?”

“Not everything, just most things.” Steve frowned as Tony reared his head to the side. “Makes life a little more entertaining that way.”

“Oh? And is it going to be entertainment when your irresponsibility gets someone killed? Or did you forget about your little malfunction last week?” The comment had Tony break eye contact and had Clint shift a bit uncomfortably in his seat. “But, oh, that’s right.” He drew his attention back, still keeping his demeanor the same. “It doesn’t concern you, because it wasn’t you who almost got killed. So, obviously wasn’t important.” 

Tony’s eyes cast downwards for only a moment and, just as he was about to reply, Fury strolled into the room with a generic tan folder clasped in his hand. He tossed it down on the table.

“You all remember that thing from last week.” Tony and Steve relaxed back in their chairs, but Stark crossed his arms over his chest as Steve grabbed the file to look through it. “Well, apparently it tore a hole somewhere in the Chihuahuan Desert; we’re still not sure where.” The captain slid the folder across the table to Natasha. “The energy seeping out from it is scrambling any technology that we try to get in the area and it goes off for miles.”

“If it causes a distortion, what can we do about it?” Dr. Banner asked after a quick glance to the file, which Clint was not browsing through. “Even if we do find it, how are we supposed to close it?”

Fury walked to the other end of the table as the file was handed to Bruce; Tony leaned to peek at it as the doctor opened it. He reached over to grab the top sheet, pulling it out to look at it himself. “Wait. It says here that those things are still getting out?” He glanced up from the paper to Fury. “Why haven’t we been called in until now? Seems like they’ve been handling it pretty well, so far.”

“They had a handle on it, until it started to expand.” The group turned to look at him. “This thing’s growing at an exponentially alarming rate. They’ve managed to seal off a perimeter to keep these things contained…for now.” He went back to pacing around the table. “At the rate this thing is growing, it’s not going to be much longer before these things break through.”

Tony handed the sheet back to Bruce, who put it in the file. “Sounds fun.” Clint leaned back in his chair to balance it on two legs. “Then let’s get this thing cleared up; shouldn’t take long.” He set the chair down and Fury seemed satisfied with the response.

Natasha watched him walk to the other side of the room. “I’m assuming we’re not walking.”

Bruce chuckled and looked at Tony. “We could always hitch a ride.”

“Sorry, but the detachable carriage won’t be ready until next week.” They laughed as the others just shook their heads with smirks stuck on their faces.

“We already have a jet ready to take you to the border,” Fury’s voice came back up. “As soon as you all are ready, meet outside.”

With that said, he left the room, leaving the file behind.  

The sound of shuffling filled the room as everyone started to stand up. Hawkeye and Widow were commenting to each other as they followed Fury out of the room and Bruce stretched once he stood. “And to think I was going to quit all of this.” Steve and Tony both snickered at the comment. “Let’s get the wrapped up quickly, all right?”

Tony set his hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “Hot date tonight?”

He laughed as he walked to the door, away from Stark’s hand. “Yeah. With that beautiful redhead. In fact”—he faced the door—“I think she works for you.” He sent a joking smirk to Tony as he left the room, leaving the Iron Man to shake his head with a similar expression on his face.

Steve crossed in front of him and caught the door before it closed. “Stark,” he started keeping his hand on the door. “If you want to sit this out, I wouldn’t be against it.”

Tony frowned. “And let you have all the fun?” He patted the blond on the shoulder. “Not on my agenda, pretty boy.”

His hand got knocked back as Steve turned to face him. “Are you honestly going to risk getting hurt if something goes wrong again?”

Tony raised his eyebrows, shifting his head off to the side. “Wasn’t aware you cared about me like that – makes me all warm inside.”

Now was the older man’s turn to frown. “I get that you’re stressed – what with everything that’s happened recently – and I think it might be better if you called out on this.” Tony shrugged, but still did not seem on taking the advice. “Unless you’re one hundred percent certain your hangover’s not going to hinder your cognitive function.”

So that was what everything was about.

“Ouch.” He put his hand over the arc reactor. “Now that hurts, Cap. I think I’ll be fine.”

The response he received was Steve rolling his eyes. “Yeah. _You_ might be.” With his voice filled with sarcasm, he swung the door open and left the room to catch up with the others, leaving Tony to stand alone, staring after him with a look mixed with disbelief and anger...and a flash of hurt.

Which he quickly banished as he followed after.


	2. Pulsate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony reflects on things he has done and things that have been said, but his primary focus lands on his childhood hero: Steve Rogers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the responses, guys! (^ ^)  
> I hope the second chapter will keep you entertained well enough to hold out for the rest!

**2: Pulsate**

“You sure you want to stay back?”

Bruce only managed a half-nod as he turned away from the computers. “I can be a lot more useful here,” he said as he motioned to the updates on the screens. 

The layout of the area was on a set of virtual screens, with the energy points seeping out glowing thermal red and yellow. The original perimeter had apparently been shoved back after having everyone pull back; the hole, or crater, had expanded nearly double in the past forty-eight hours. Dr. Banner volunteered (for obvious reasons) to stay in the armored trailer outside of the perimeter to feed information to the others and keep them updated on the energy source. The S.H.I.E.L.D agents, who had originally been assigned to monitor the levels, were now solely on backup to keep an eye on the base, in case the things – whatever they were – broke through.

Steve nodded, picking up his shield. “If anything gets out of hand—”

“I’ll let you know.”

Another nod at the response. He touched the device around his neck. “Stark, how clear are we?”

There was silence on the other end, and then, “I’ve only seen four – nope! – five.”  Steve could hear Tony firing from the suit. “Back to four.”

When Steve glanced to Banner, the doctor just nodded, giving the notion that he had everything under control. Returning the sentiment, Steve left the trailer to meet Clint and Natasha standing outside. Natasha had her arms crossed over her chest as her eyes scanned over the border, squinting from the gust of wind that continually smacked them all in the face. Even beyond the perimeter, there was silence. Clint’s head turned up as Stark came into view, landing in front of them.

“So how far in is the gap?” Natasha asked, focusing on him.

The Iron Man suit clanked as the faceplate pulled back to reveal Tony’s face. “About half a mile. Couldn’t get close enough to tell the size, though. Whatever that energy is, it’s scrambling my system.”

“You going to be able to do this?”

Tony shrugged at the Captain’s question. “Just means I can’t use my navigation – everything else still functions.” He worded the answer how Steve meant the question, to which he received a passive okay as a response. “From a distance, anyway,” he quickly added.

Not giving the eldest a chance to respond, Clint cut in: “Anyone have any idea how we’re going to go about this?”

“Well, given that those things are coming from an apparent hole, I say we drop down and cut it off at the source,” Steve said as he subconsciously adjusted the black belt around his more stealthy uniform.

“Uh, problem there.” They glanced to Tony. “Been over it and you can’t even see the bottom. Dropped a high res measure down it while going over it, though. Speaking of which, Banner, you get anything back from that?”

Dr. Banner’s voice broke over their devices. “Only for a second. Whatever’s down there causing the electromagnetic interference is much stronger than it is outside. I lost it about one-hundred and twenty-nine meters.” Tony whistled. “If it’s straight down, there’s no way anyone’s going to jump down there for a peek.”

Tony nodded in a deliberate manner, sight focused on Steve. “You were saying?”

“All right,” he drew out, making sure to make eye contact. “Then we find another way in.”

“That would make sense,” Natasha said, turning her body towards them. “Why they haven’t been interested in really breaking through the barrier: those things are guarding the opening.” The men exchanged glances. “Otherwise, they would just be pouring out of the gap. They’re waiting for something.”

“Then we stop them before whatever they’re waiting for happens. Stark”—they made eye contact again—“eyes from the sky. You see anything that looks like an entrance, make it known.”

“I’m on it.” His thrusters turned on and he shot to the above.

“Means we’re on foot,” Clint commented, taking out his bow. “In and out.”

Getting inside the perimeter required it to be shut down from the control panel, which Bruce manually deactivated to allow them to pass by. Though not able to be seen, the barrier put up around the perimeter was done with infrared lasers, which would slice anything trying to pass – granted, it did not protect higher than twenty feet, making it easy for Stark to fly overhead. Dispersing made it more likely to find a secondary entrance, so the three moved in separate directions. The fact that it was quiet, other than the wind, was unnerving. With the creatures guarding whatever entrance, it kept them on their toes. Clint’s boots barely even crunched as they stepped on fallen brush on the semi-hard soil, at least letting him know that he would hear anything before it would be able to sneak up on him.

“Anyone seeing anything?” Steve’s voice cut across the air.

“Nothing yet,” Natasha responded.

“I see a lot of sand.” Tony’s voice.

Clint snickered before talking. “Nothing on this end.”

He glanced around; the harsh heat meeting the ground caused the distortion when the light bent at the dense median, only allowing him to see so far. No one could be seen, his vision blocked, not only by the distortion, but the mounds of hard sand and brush. Keeping ready, he kept forward, eyes continuously darting around, watching for the slightest bit of movement.

Something darted around the corner of his eye.

When he shot around, whatever it had been was gone, disappearing from view. Now walking close to backwards, with an arrow drawn, everything was on alert. As he stepped back again, he failed to feel ground below his heel. Glancing behind him, he was staring straight down into a black abyss.

The hold was massive, and that very well might have been an understatement.

It was easily over fifty feet in diameter.

A moment of distraction was too much and his attention snapped to a long-limbed creature charging at him, using its arms much like a primate to propel itself forward. Just as he pulled up his weapon, he was tackled from the side by a different one. His weapon flew from his hands, but his attention on it was only a second before bringing it to the thin, gray thing on top of him. Able to reach down, he unhitched one of the knives from his strap and dug it into its side. Its eyeless face screeched and it brought down its long, thin, claw-like hand, slashing the archer across the face.

A grunt left his throat and he pulled the knife, still embedded into the creature’s side, up and out. His head snapped to the side, seeing the other one charging once again. Adrenaline shooting through his veins, he forced his arm up between his and the creature’s body, jamming the knife under the thing’s jaw and through its face.

It did not even wail as it collapsed.

Shoving it off, he rolled to the side right as the other one jumped down in the spot where he had been, its claws digging inches into the soil. Jerking its head to him, it released another screech, sharp and jagged teeth bared. While he scrambled to get to his feet, he called out, “I’ve got contact, over here!”

Right as he was an arm’s length from his bow, his ankle was snatched and he was pulled backwards. Now dangling upside down, he used his other leg to kick the creature under the jaw. Its response was to swing him around. Changing his grip on the knife, when he was close enough, he shoved it into its long leg. Another screech left its throat and it threw him backwards, skidding across the ground and over the edge of the opening. His weapon fell from his hand, disappearing below as he reached out to grab the edge.

It was a straight shot down, however far that might have been. Clint dug his fingers into the hard soil, trying to get a better grip to pull himself up, but the soil began to crack. Just as he managed to start hoisting up, the edge broke off. Reflexes kicked in and he was able to pull a spear-tipped arrow out and jam it into the edge, leaving him to dangle above the dark gap. Using his other hand, he retrieved another to jam it in and use them like picks to climb up the wall. Moving faster than the pieces of soft rock could break off, he rounded to the top. As he reached the opening, the creature had been waiting for him. He was unable to knock its hand back when it reached down to put its hand on his face, its long fingers grabbing his head as though it were a piece of fruit.

Suddenly, the creature released a loud shriek as its back was fired into. It was not given a chance for reprieve before it was hit again, sending it lurching forward into the hole, releasing its grip on Hawkeye as it fell. His arm was caught in mid-fall and he thrown back onto the ground. He turned just in time to see Tony’s suit begin to lose power. The jets spurted and gave out, sending the man freefalling behind the creature. By the time Clint was able to scramble and get back to the edge, his ally had disappeared into the abyss below.

No time to contemplate.

Another of the creatures was running on all fours towards him. He jerked off to the side, bent down in mid-run to grab his bow, loaded an arrow and sent it propelling forward between the thing’s eyes. It fell right into the ground and he stood straight, looking for any sign of more. Not seeing any, he did see Natasha stand straight after ripping her blade from a creature’s chest, apparently not having been far behind Stark. Faceless relief was exchanged as he turned back to stare down into the hole, seeing only blackness beyond.

* * *

Tony hit the ground with a clanking thud next to the now-dead creature.  

Groaning, he rolled over, but there was no chance to recuperate from his fall; his system was complete static, followed by darkness as it shut off. He took off the helmet, letting it hit the ground. Shaking his head, he rubbed his forehead as it pounded. Dropping his arm, he took a good look at his surroundings. Green and blue veins ran across the rock walls, emitting a soft glow; which was enough to see. Water laced the floor, which was also traced with veins – the ripples in the water made the veins appear to pulse. He climbed to his feet. Curiosity making its way to his brain, he approached the wall, staring at the veins. He touched the device around his neck.

“Someone tell me they found an entrance.”

There was static, followed by a broken response of: “St…rk?”

He brought his shelled hand up to touch one of the veins. It squirmed from the tap. “Interesting,” he muttered to himself.

There was more static over the line, “…St…ou…ay….”

It sounded like Natasha’s voice, but it faded to more static before it went silent.

The vein began to pulse. Feeling slight warmth, it began to move through Tony’s suit, moving from the tips of his fingers down his arms. He pulled his hand back, staring at it, but the slight heat was beginning to grow hotter. He jerked back as the heat became immense, as though it was burning into his flesh.

“Ah, damn it!” he cursed as he forced it off and threw it to the side; the other one quickly met it. His hands and arms were red and blistering, but when the heat began to radiate through the rest of the suit, it was a little more difficult to get off – and the cursing was a bit more vulgar. Steve’s voice came over the communicator, asking, in pieces, if everything was all right, but he was too busy dropping his armor. When the last piece hit the ground, he was finally able to respond. “Someone have an explanation as to how a suit, that can’t overheat, just overheated?”

There was a pause, followed by static.

He raised his eyebrows, hand hovering over the backup comm on his neck.

“Hello?”

More static.

“Eve…ic…ing….”

Tony sighed as Bruce’s voice was drowned out by white noise. “At least it’s not my fault.” He kicked his fallen helmet as he moved down the only corridor that was in the room. If he kept following it, he should find a way out; at least he was hoping there was a way out. His only concern was if something were to come his way. Strict hand-to-hand combat was not exactly his forte, much to his dismay.

Figured to be just his luck.

If there truly was not another entrance, he could not think of another way to get out of the cavern – it looked like a cavern – except with a really long ladder…or rope.

He jerked when he felt something crawling in the pocket of his jeans. Knitting his eyebrows together, he pulled out his phone to find a gray, wormlike creature crawling on its case. When his hand touched it, it felt as though it bit down on him. When he jerked his hand back he dropped his phone and the creature was dangling, having burrowed its head into his hand. Using his other hand, he pulled it out and flung it to the ground. It writhed, and then started crawling towards him. However, when it touched the open part of his phone, a small spark shot out and it released a hiss before squirming on the ground.

It fell limp.

He stared at it for a moment, then picked up his phone, eyeing it.

The reasons for the electrical disturbances made much more sense, now.

Keeping it gripped tightly in his hand, he made his way through the corridor. With the veins emitting light, seeing was not an issue, but, whatever those creatures were, he could not help but notice they were the same shade as the walls and the floor; so he made sure he did not touch the walls for any reason. As he neared a larger opening, he heard the familiar shriek of one of the creatures from the surface, which could mean one of two things.

He moved to a jog down the corridor, which dumped him at a fork. A bit of silence, followed by another loud shriek had him taking the left passage. It was relatively short and he came up in time to see the familiar figure of Captain America throwing a creature over his shoulder when it tried to climb onto his back. Grabbing his shield, which had apparently fallen to the ground, the Captain jammed it into its abdomen, basically cutting it in half. Its body went into jerking spasms before losing all traces of life; its fang-filled mouth was left open.  

Tony sighed an air of relief. “Please tell me you know the way out of here,” he said, as Steve looked over his shoulder to him.

Leaving his shield embedded into the creature’s torso (for now), he grabbed his head and shook it. “Uh, yeah.” He blinked as he brought his hand down. “About a quarter of a mile down.” He squinted, as though adjusting to a bright light from shadowed darkness. “I tried to contact you all, but those things ambushed me.” As though noticing Stark was standing there for the first time, he quickly drew out, “How’d you get down here?”

The dark-haired male pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. “Expressway. A little more painful, but gets the job done all the same.”

Steve nodded as he shook his head again, clamping his eyes shut as he held his temple.

“Everything all right?” Tony asked, approaching him.

The other just nodded. There was silence between them as he seemed to recover, to what Tony assumed had been a blow to the head. Inhaling deeply, Steve brought his hand down and stood straight, head thrown back as he stared at the ceiling. With a sudden change in his demeanor, he brought his head to look dead on at his comrade. The change even had Stark crease his brow.

“Why _are_ you here?” Steve demanded, voice harsh.

Taken aback, but not physically showing it, Tony raised his eyebrows. “Same reason we all are, I assumed.”

Steve stepped directly in front of him, staring down at the smaller man. “No. I mean why are you really here?” The tone in his voice was low, almost threatening. “We all know you’re not here for us, or anyone else. You’re here for you. So what do you expect to get out of being here?” Stark’s eyes demanded to shift downward, making him force himself to keep eye contact. “Without your suit, you’re nothing – you’re pathetic. You keep trying to be the man your father was, but the fact is you never will be. He was a great man that revolutionized the world. And you? You’re just a worthless little kid in man’s armor.”

Tony clamped down on his jaw. For the first time in he-did-not-even-know-hold-long, he was unable to come up with a retort. His eyes quickly darted over Steve’s shoulder, then back to the blond-haired man’s face.

“How’d you get down here?” his voice came out firm.

The Captain scoffed. “What’s that mean?”

Tony moved his vision back to the side of Steve’s head, focusing on a small trail of blood that was dripping from his ear. “It’s a simple question, really.” Back to making eye contact. “How’d you get down here, Cap?”

He snorted, nodding his head as he looked down at his boots. He brought up his hand to run it down his face, an off smirk on his face.

In an instant, he grabbed Tony’s head and slammed him against the cave wall. He groaned as pain radiated from his head, down his neck and shoulders. Cognizant enough, he forced his knee into Steve’s stomach, getting the other to pull back long enough for Tony to rip himself away from the wall; however, when he went to turn away, Steve grabbed his right forearm and twisted it, forcing it against Stark’s back. His phone hit the ground with a clack. Pain shot through his arm as his elder kept twisting forcing his shoulder to pop. A quick shout found its way out of his mouth when a harsh jerk caused the bone to snap. Bringing his left elbow back, he caught Steve directly in the temple, making him release his grip.

Managing to kick his phone where it skidded several feet away, he kept his broken arm tight to his chest as he moved to go after it.

It was a long shot, but he failed to see any other viable option.

Hearing Steve’s shield scrape along the ground as he retrieved it from the creature’s stomach, an unwelcomed yell quickly followed from Tony’s throat when the shield made contact with his left hip as he tried moving out of the way. He collapsed onto the ground, the bone feeling as though it shattered, making the feeling in the leg go into numb pain. Without even so much as a second to try and recuperate, the Captain reached down, grabbing Tony by the throat and pulling him up, only to shove him against the wall with his grip tightening. Stark grabbed Steve’s wrist, trying to twist it off as his broken arm was left to only dangle at his side. The blood pressure mounted in his head as Steve’s grip tightened, his fingers digging into both sides of his neck, completely cutting off his air supply. His right leg kicked from under him, trying to get up high enough to kick the blond away from him, but between the pain from his more-than-likely-broken hip and the fact that his strength was beginning to fail him, he was left resorting to barely hitting his comrade on the face with his uninjured arm; however, when his sight started to close in, he could only dig his nails into the other’s wrist.

Flashes of white shot across his vision.

This was it.

He was going to die.

By the hands of his hero – what irony.

“ _Hnnng – hnnnng_.”

And some noise was invading his ears.

“ _Hnnnng – nnnnn_.”

What was that sound? It was aggravating.

When his vision started to come back into focus, he realized that it was him, sucking in breath after breath with his hand clutching his throat. His head pounded as blood rushed to it and he tried to sit up from the fallen position he found himself in. What he saw in front of him was Steve holding his head with his eyes clamped shut, looking as though he was in an immense amount of pain. Tony groaned, rolling over to try to get to his feet. The Captain began hitting his head against the stone wall, yelling as blood started top drip down his face.

“Stop.” Stark’s voice sounded so distant in his ears and he had to use the wall to support himself as he stood, trying his best to ignore the pains shooting through his back and down his leg. “Come on, Cap.”

Damn.

Was that really coming from his throat? His vocals did not seem bent on being any louder. When he tried to get close, Steve pushed him back, causing him to fall back to the floor. “Don’t!” he shouted at him. “Stay back!” His bashed his head on the wall again.

Tony traced the ground around him, his eyes landing on his fallen phone. Lying down, he stretched, reaching out to pick it up; but Steve was not standing in the water that laced the ground. A groan left his throat when he went to stand, so, instead, he nearly crawled to his ally. Taking the only chance he had, he swung his right leg out, making him trip and fall to the ground, which he took full advantage of. Before the blond even had time to register what was happening, Tony lifted up the phone and sent it crashing onto the rock. Sparks shot out as a small electrical current from the shattered pieces made its way through the water, shocking them both.

It was not much, but it seemed to be just enough to do what needed to be done.

From Steve’s ear, a thick, gray, wormlike creature, just like the one prior, oozed its way out, falling into the water, making a sound as though it were deflating. It writhed on the ground for a few seconds before going completely limp, dead. Pushing himself to the wall, with his good arm, Tony grabbed Steve by the front of his shirt, pulling him against the wall with him. His back hit it with a wet thud and he could hear the other’s panting breaths matching his own.  

“Electric currents,” Tony said through cringing pants as he rolled his head to look at Steve sitting next to him. The Captain’s hand was on his chest over his heart. “That’s why it’s causing the distortions.” He let his head fall back in front of him, now getting his breaths to slow down.

For the next few minutes, the two just sat there, trying to calm down. Finally, Steve groaned and moved to stand up. “Come on.” He pushed himself up using the wall. “We’ve gotta let everyone know, so we can get rid of these things.” Once he was up, he held his hand out to help Tony to his feet. The Iron Man reached out and, when he grabbed the other’s forearm, he was hoisted up. He stumbled from the pressure on his wounded hip and, seeing him cringe, Steve offered his support, despite Tony’s words telling him he was fine. “I broke your arm and nearly shattered your hip.” Tony did a half-nod, not denying it. “Least I can do is help get you out of this hole.”

“Could buy me a drink – a little informality never hurt.”

He smirked when Steve chuckled.

“I’ll do that, too, then.”

“Yeah.” Stark’s titter was cut short from inhaling sharply as Steve looped his left arm around his neck and wrapped his arm around the Iron Man’s back for better support. A few steps later and the pressure walking was putting on his hip and pelvis became too unbearable, causing him to falter, but when Steve went to help him, Tony stopped him. “Let’s keep this PG, all right?”

“I can always leave you.” When Tony seemed to contemplate the idea, Steve acted to let him go. Response kicked in and he kept himself up by hooking his arm tighter around the older gent’s neck. He told Steve to shut up when he laughed.

“Don’t laugh. This isn’t funny,” he said in a joking tone that only belonged to Tony Stark. Steve shifted to hold him back up. “Now, come on. Onward, Starbright.”

Steve rolled his eyes as they began moving forward again and he made sure to keep as much weight from pressing on Stark’s broken bone without the other man noticing he was doing it.


	3. Runner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony reflects on things he has done and things that have been said, but his primary focus lands on his childhood hero: Steve Rogers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm uploading both chapter three and four back-to-back because, initially, they were supposed to go together - hence why they're kinda short (running four and five pages, respectively).
> 
> "Why not just combine them?" I'm sure you're asking!
> 
> I feel like it flows better having it split up.

**3:** **Runner**

Clint held the bullet-like device in front of his face, close to his eye as he inspected it: it emitted a soft blue light with ridges of the shell going all the way around and black sensors running up and down the sides. A soft, high-pitched noise came from it, which was more of an annoyance than any auditory pain.

“So let me see if I understand this correctly,” Clint started as he brought it down. “We drop this little thing down the hole and it’s supposed to somehow shock those things?” He held it out to Bruce.  

“That’s the gist of it.” Bruce took it back and walked over to the metal table in the center of the back room to the trailer. “Since what’s down there disrupts electric currents, once it tries to disable it, the outer shell comes off and—”

“—boom goes the dynamite,” Tony cut in as he hobbled towards them from where he had been sitting in a metal chair against the wall. Steve, who had been standing next to him, held his hand up to stop him, but Tony merely waved him off, garnering an aggravated look. “The water that’s down there goes through the entire passage. A nice shock, bye-bye birdie.” He set his left hand on the table when he approached it and used it to keep himself up. “The question is who are we sending to do this daring mission? Dropping a bullet down a hole – very intense. Might not come back alive.”

They all exchanged glances as Banner shook his head and set the device down on the table, keeping it from rolling. Hawkeye glanced to Natasha, who had her arms crossed over her chest as she watched Stark; her eyes quickly darted to him when she became aware of his gaze. She shrugged and looked back to the group, uncrossing her arms. “Give it to me.” She stepped forward and held her hand out.

Bruce picked it back up, holding it between his thumb and index finger. “You’re certain?” Her response was taking it from him. “All right, but we’ve only got one shot at this.” She only nodded. “It might cause the ground to collapse if the target’s large enough.”

“Love a little excitement.” She sent a small smirk to Clint before shifting back and holding the bullet tightly in the palm of her hand.

“You’re not going in alone,” Clint said, expression even, getting her to raise her eyebrows.

“Oh? And I suppose you’re going to with me?”

“Actually, I am.” They turned to look at Steve. “I’ve got a score to settle.”

* * *

Tony batted Steve’s hand away when he tried to aid him up the steps to get onto the plane. With a crutch under his only working arm supporting his damaged leg, it took him longer than he anticipated to get up the six steps; however, when he made it, he sent a smug look to Steve and looked over his shoulder at Bruce, who had been behind him in case he faltered, to send a similar look. He moved passed the Captain to go into the cabin, though the other’s hand was lightly set on his lower back for the support. Tony went to the first seat on his left. Shoving the crutch into the other’s hands, he grabbed the chair and hobbled to the chair closest to the window, being careful as to how he twisted himself to sit down. As he situated himself, he took his crutch from Steve and placed it between the chair and the wall.

When Steve stepped to sit in the seat directly across from him, Tony raised his eyebrows.

“What? I need a chaperone, now?”

“Until you prove you don’t need one,” Natasha commented as she walked by them to the other set of chairs near the back wall.

Tony stuck out his tongue, mocking her, while Steve and Bruce snickered. As Clint got onto the plane, he grabbed the headrest to the empty seat next to Stark. “Stop trying to get yourself killed, would you?” He nodded to the other’s damaged leg; Tony just waved him off with his good arm.

“I’ll consider it.”

“Speed this up, everyone. We need to get off the ground,” the pilot called from the opened cockpit as he flipped the switches to start the propellers. Clint moved off to sit in the empty aisle seat next to the other trained assassin. Bruce patted Tony on the shoulder as he followed Hawkeye and sat in the seat across from him, facing the cockpit. “Everyone in?” the pilot asked, trying to look over his shoulder. The response came from Bruce and the pilot seemed content and made a notion to his co-pilot. As the thrusters came on, the plane began to move, turning to go down the small runway. The weight and movement from the plane caused the ground beneath the wheels to start to give way. Part of the rear wheel dropped when the ground cracked, but as it sped up to go straight, it caught back on stable ground. Bruce and Natasha were the only ones looking out of the windows to see the ground collapse around them; Clint was trying to ignore the danger by adjusting his uniform in every way possible; Steve had both hands gripping the armrests on each side of him, keeping his eyes shut, waiting for the feeling of being in the air; and Tony was leaning over the empty seat next to him to look behind him into the cockpit.

The plane shook as it sped up, cracking over the ground; and as the front set of wheels began lifting up, the ground beneath the back end completely broke off from the change in weight, making the aircraft bob downwards before stabilizing off the ground. As they gained altitude, the air in the cabin seemed to relax and, with the exception of Tony and Dr. Banner, everyone was looking out of the windows to see the ground give way, sinking to reveal the burning and shriveling veins that had taken over the underground.

When they were finally smooth in the air, the door to the cockpit was shut. Bruce had started looking over folders involving bioelectric strands, making one-hundred percent certain that the device that he had engineered had the capability of destroying the underground tunnels. Once there was no doubt, he began researching new ways of incorporating that same technology into other devices, which would be used to aid modern advances. He had moved to sit by Tony to discuss the idea and that resulted in a discussion on modifications and how to incorporate it into modern technology. They were discussing test runs to perform once they returned and were able to get a prototype ready. Bruce moved back to his original seat to write down possible methods, leaving Tony strictly in Steve’s company.

Stark tried shifting to keep the pressure off of his injured hip bone.

“How much does it hurt?”

Tony looked up to see Steve giving him a very concerned expression.

He pressed his lips together and shook his head. “Doesn't.”

_Lie_.

Steve heaved a sigh, but nodded, nonetheless. Tony settled back into the seat, still in obvious discomfort, though he willed it not to show. He could hardly even feel his leg. When he had checked it while the Captain and Black Widow had gone to drop the bullet, the area on and around his hip was turning a dark purple, almost black. He managed to stint it with cardboard and an ACE rap, but the feeling of numbness could not overtake the sharp pains that radiated up his side and down his leg any time he moved.

He exhaled as he relaxed in the seat.

“Tony,” Steve started, grabbing the other’s attention. Stark’s expression was impassive as he looked ahead of him to the older, though younger-looking, man. “What I said down there—”

Tony waved his hand. “Don’t worry about it.”

“No.” His voice was firm, making the other stare at him curiously. “Let me talk.” Tony nodded, giving a slight shrug, meaning he would try to keep quiet. “I want to sit here and tell you that none of it was me – that it was that _thing_ or whatever – but I can’t.” He watched as his ally’s eyes cast downwards. “I know I’m always comparing you to your father and that’s not right. It’s not fair to you. Maybe it’s because I’m still trying to get used to everything and with you being his son, it’s the only thing that seems familiar to me. And even that’s just some pathetic excuse, which still doesn’t make up for anything.”

“It’s a start.”

“Tony.” Steve frowned and Tony rolled his hand, meaning for him to continue. “I know you’re nothing like you’re father.” Stark went to staring at the chair next to Steve. “There were things he did that you could never do, but, at the same time, you’ve accomplished so much more. You’ve well surpassed him and I guess I have to get used to that fact.” He went to staring down at his hands as they fumbled over themselves. “It’s gonna sound really stupid, but…Howard was my hero, so seeing someone go beyond him is…it keeps reminding me how far out of everything I am.” He looked up to see Stark looking back at him, still keeping his word to stay silent and allow the Captain to finish. “You’re a great man, Tony Stark.”

His silence was broken.

“You’re not going to kiss me, now, are you?”

Steve frowned, despite the small smirk tugging at the edges of his mouth. “Don’t tempt me.” They both laughed. He inhaled, continuing. “In all seriousness, though, I honestly was wrong to say you’re nothing without your suit. I’m just…angry…all the time. I try not to show it; and maybe it’s because you do have an air of familiarity about you why I find myself lashing out at you all the time.” He set his hand on Tony’s knee. “I’m sorry.”

Tony inhaled and leaned back, looking uncomfortable. “Look, I’m not fond of chick flicks, so how about we cut this one short, hm?” He looked to Steve, who did not look amused. Sighing, he followed up with, “Fine. I accept your apology.” His slightly sarcastic tone was read through by the other man, who now seemed content.

Standing, Steve got up to sit next to him, falling back into the seat. He glanced sideways, watching Stark adjust the strap on his sling. Shifting, he pressed his shoulder against Tony’s and when the Iron Man went to move, Steve merely kept his body pressed against the others. Releasing an aggravated sigh, Tony dropped his arm – failing to adjust his strap – and glanced to the Captain. “Yes?” Sarcasm filled his voice. Steve leaned over in front of Tony and grabbed the strap with one hand as he pulled the layer through the metal clasp to tighten it. Tony’s breath jerked in his throat for only a moment when it was too tight, but the older man fixed it to where his arm was resting comfortably.

“Better?”

Tony shrugged his indifference, but when Steve frowned, he released a breath. “Yeah.” He fell back in the seat. “Thanks.” Steve nodded and went back to sitting upright in his own chair. Adjusting his own position, Stark leaned against the other man, laying his head on his shoulder.

“Uh…Stark?” he asked, taken aback as he gazed down at him. “What are you doing?”

“I’m tired and you’re conveniently sitting here.” He shifted his head, making himself relaxed. “You’re comfortable. Take it as a compliment.”

Steve shook his head. With his right arm, he set his hand on Tony’s slung forearm.

“You’re something else, Stark.” He looked down at the other man, whose eyes were shut and breaths even, with a light smile on his face. He sighed, relaxing, and set his head on Tony’s. “You’re really something.”


	4. Intoxication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony reflects on things he has done and things that have been said, but his primary focus lands on his childhood hero: Steve Rogers.

**4:** **Intoxication**

~ _Six Months Later~_

An awkward grunt resounded around Stark’s lab.

His grip faltered on the metal support rod he had been using for the last month after his hip healed enough for him to walk – or try, at least. He had already been told to take it easy and not push the healing process, to which he paid no heed; why would he? He was perfectly capable of knowing if he was healed enough to put pressure and walk on it; granted, though he would not admit it, he more than likely would have more mobility had he have taken the extra month of rest. Lounging around and being confined to a wheelchair or crutches was not something he had been fond of, however. After giving up trying to convince him otherwise, Pepper had left on a business trip, which managed to get extended when new information was discovered about some CEO.

The exact details were sketchy at best.

He gripped the bar and pulled himself partially up, releasing an annoyed breath as his arms and chin hung over the rod.

“ _Shall I call for assistance, sir?_ ” JARVIS’ speech came out with.

“No! No.” He grunted as he tried to make it to a stand. “It’s fine, JARVIS.” He managed to push himself up, gripping the bar tightly as he took pressure off of his hip. Once he managed to stabilize himself, he grabbed the bottom of his shirt to lift it and see the healing damage. No longer using any type of splint, the area was a light purple and brown; it did not look the least bit pleasing. Unlike when it first started to heal and it was an array of colors. He half-expected to be smacked when he made the running joke that he was a human kaleidoscope.

Sighing, he dropped his shirt and gripped the bar with both hands, hanging his head.

The feeling of languor was not a welcome one.

Of course, Steve had been more than empathetic the past few months, most likely due to the reasoning he still felt responsible, despite being told otherwise. Any time it was even hinted that Tony was in over his head – physically, that is – and the Captain was in close proximity, he would aid in any way he could. Though, more than once, Tony had become annoyed with him and the attention he had been given.

It was not like he was crippled.

The good part had been that his arm had healed in the first two months. He still experienced bouts of pain, but it was easily ignorable. Plus, it made working on projects much easier with access to both arms. He had been aggravated using only one arm and things taking more than twice as long to be completed; even with Banner’s help on occasion.

A long breath escaped his throat as he moved back towards the desk, making sure to keep his grip firm on the bar, which he had run through the entire lab, with a little assistance, of course (once again from Dr. Banner). It gave him more functionality and allowed him to continue working alone without having others constantly fret over his well-being.

He was not fond of feeling as though he was burdening others, so when he and Bruce managed to get the almost-air-like bar running completely around the lab, he kept himself holed up, with even less contact than usual.

Ringing beeps filled the room, signaling a call.

“ _Sir, a call from Steve Rogers._ ”

Tony’s annoyance was visible at the computer’s words. “I’m not in; in fact, I’ve taken a trip. To Hawaii. Won’t be back for three months.” He paused, listening to the sounds around him. “Think it’s believable?”

“ _I highly doubt that, sir._ ”

Tony shrugged and grabbed his glass, which was half-full with bourbon, and took a small sip. “Maybe a trip to the Great Barrier Reef, then.”

“Yeah, because that’s even more believable.” Tony glanced to the entrance to see Steve standing in the doorway. As he walked into the lab, he glanced at the glass doorframe and set his hand on it. “Perhaps what you should consider is a better security system.”

Tony shrugged and set his glass down. “JARVIS, I’m sensing a threatening presence. Could you explain to me why there is a super soldier in my doorway?”

“ _Apologies, sir, but Mr. Rogers did state that he would be arriving today when you last spoke_.”

Tony frowned as Steve sent him a smug look. “Fine. I guess I’ll have to take care of the intruder myself.” Steve rolled his eyes as he moved towards the other; the bar separated when it sensed his presence, only to connect back once he was through it. Tony picked up his glass again to take another swish, but just as he got it to his mouth, it was taken away from him. He dropped his arm to give Steve a half-lid stare. “Now why would you do that? You can’t even get drunk, so isn’t drinking kind of pointless for you?”

The older male brought the drink up to smell it, then brought it back down. “Stark, how much have you had?”

He shrugged. “Enough to know that you are very good-looking.” His typical over-confident smirk found its way to his face as the other’s lips tugged into a frown. “What’d I say?”

Steve rolled his eyes and set the glass on the desk. His eyes traced the screen layout in front of him. “So what are you working on?”

Keeping his hand on the desk for support as he turned back to his current project, he shrugged and swiped his hand across the screen, scattering virtual folders. “Still working on the glitch.” Sensing the other’s inquisitive stare, he went on with, “When that thing short-circuited my suit. Chances of it happening again: slim to none, but it’ll bug me until I figure it out. Banner's sent me his updates on bioelectric currents and we're thinking about incorporating nano-technology later on down the road, but that's wishful thinking.” The Captain nodded, eyes scanning over things he did not even understand. Tony shrugged and swiped his hand on the screen again, getting the files to fall back into their folders as they organized themselves into a vertical line. He turned back to face the blond and leaned his back on the desk. “So to what do I owe this surprise visit that I apparently knew about?”

Forgoing the obvious disbelief at the wording, Steve shook his head. “No one’s heard from you in a few days and I came to make sure you didn’t die.”

“Well, you’d only be half right. Death is so…boring. Dull, like sleeping.” When he reached for his glass again, Steve picked it back up, keeping it from him and making the younger male stare at him with annoyance. “I was assuming that you had forgotten about our last date,” he said, tracing his gaze to his drink.

To which Steve scoffed, most likely at the wording and the actions the last time they were together.

“Hard to forget something like that, especially when you made yourself quite apparent.” Another shrug from the genius. “Or did that not happen, either?”

Tony tapped his fingers on the desk, recalling the prior week. “Well, if String Theory holds any truth, there is a possibility that it wasn’t me, but another reality.” A smile befell his face at the reaction he received. “In my defense, I wasn’t exactly sober.”

Steve laughed. “Trust me. My shoes and my jacket remember that quite well. So much for being able to hold your liquor.”

A shake of the head. “I’ll have you know, _Captain Rogers_ , that I”—he managed to snatch his glass back—“can hold my own very well.” He took a sip – well, more than a sip. “After all, you’d never guess this is my fifth glass.” His ally frowned, not believing him. “Okay, so maybe it’s more like my seventh - tenth? Don’t look at me like that.”

“I figured as much.” Instead of setting the glass back on the table, he shoved it to Steve’s chest, who grabbed it just as Tony let go. “You’ve been swaying the entire time I’ve been here.”

Tony suddenly stopped and stood straight. “I have not.” He felt the ground move beneath him.

With a light smile on his face, Steve shook his head and set his hand on Tony’s forearm. “Right. Why don’t we go upstairs?” As he began lightly pulling Stark along, the other somewhat gawked at him.

“Awe, come on, Uncle Steve.” Steve released a breathy laugh and turned his head to look at him. “Fine,” he seemed disappointed. Gripping the bar, he had the older gent walk in front of him, one reason being he still did not like others seeing him in a vulnerable state. The bar only lead to the door to the lab, which shut and locked once they were out, but it was only a few steps to the stairs, which did have a rail. Hence why he would have much rather have stayed in the lab. Going up and down stairs was not exactly an enjoyable experience.

Not that the amount of alcohol helped any.

He did not notice it when he was focused in the lab, but now he realized how much the things in front of him were moving. He was on the fifth stair when he grabbed the bar and fell into a crouch, setting his head against his arm.

“I’ll just meet you at the top.”

That did nothing to get the other to understand he only needed a moment’s rest. Just enough to get everything to stop moving. “Come on.” He opened his eyes to see the other holding his hand out, but when he denied it, Steve gave an aggravated sigh. “Stark.” With his voice firm, Tony groaned and complied and was hoisted to his feet. As he slid his arm around Stark’s waist, he could not help but comment, “And I swear, if you throw up on me again—”

“We wouldn’t have to worry about that if you’d let me do this by myself, now would we?” He groaned when Steve “accidentally” made his foot slam into the next step.

“Oops.”

He grinned when Tony mocked him and they started to go back up the stairs.

Upon reaching the top, Tony pushed away from the Captain and hobbled down the hall to the living room, using the wall for support. When he got to the couch, he had to position himself properly before sitting down, otherwise it would cause his side to twist in an unmentionable way, which would cause more pain than he would have liked.

“Want me to get you anything?”

Tony looked up at the question. “A drink would be nice.” And that was met with a frown. “A new hip bone would be even better.” Even he picked up on the sudden shift in Steve’s posture, making him switch subjects. “Come, sit. Talk with me, Cap.”

He shifted to sit against the arm of the couch. Shaking his head, the other did as requested. Once he sat down, he turned his head to look at Stark, whose eyes were blatantly swimming. Going up the stairs had him feeling the full effect of how much alcohol he had in his stomach with a lack of food, an all too common feeling. That reason could be the reason he was finding his eyes constantly dragging over the man sitting next to him, as well. Memories of last week came back, the way he had grabbed Steve around the neck when the older man went to help him up, being too intoxicated to even try standing, and caught him by surprise as he clashed their mouths together. It only lasted for a moment, mainly because the nausea decided to hit him at that moment; he had managed to pull away, but was unable to push Steve back and ended up vomiting on the front of the Captain’s jacket.

He did not remember anything after that, other than laughing as he said he was sorry.

Next thing he recalled, he had woken up in his bed, dressed in clean clothes.

A fleeting thought was that the blond had purposely knocked him out.

He would not put it passed him.

“You okay?” Steve’s voice cut through his train of thought. He blinked and met his eyes. “You got quiet and you’re never quiet.”

Tony shrugged. Adjusting himself to sit with his back against the back cushions of the couch, he sighed and set his head on Steve’s shoulder. “See, I was fine downstairs. Walking up those stairs is what did this. I blame you.”

Steve chuckled. “Yeah. I’m sure you do.” When he groaned, Steve followed up with, “Please warn me if you’re going to puke, again.”

Again, Tony mocked him. “Oh, bite me, Starship.” He sat back up, staring blankly in front of him. He tried to get his thoughts in order, but a hundred and one different things were going through his head and some were taking reigns more than others; which was probably why he ended up saying the top thing on his mind: “Rogers.”

“Hm?”

“Kiss me.”

Steve’s eyebrows pressed together. “What?”

Tony inhaled and turned his head to face him, allowing his head to fall back on the cushion. “I know you heard me. I said kiss me.”

The other bit down on his jaw. “Tony….”

“Oh, come on,” he practically whined; a similar tone he had a tendency to use when he was concerned he was not about to get his way. “I’m not asking you to shove your tongue down my throat, just a simple—”

He was cut off by Steve leaning over him and lightly catching his lips. Tony accepted it immediately fully shutting his eyes as he felt the other’s soft mouth pressed against his own. When he felt Steve’s hand press against the side of his face, he felt his heart rate increase, which did give rise to a feeling of nausea. He ignored it and placed his hand on Steve’s forearm as he lifted his head off the cushion. Turning towards him without losing the connection, he ran his hand up the Captain’s shoulder to his neck, having Steve be the one with his back pressed against the back of the couch. When he set his free hand on Steve’s chest, the blond grabbed his upper arms.

“Hey,” he muttered through the kiss that was somehow turning into the same thing Stark said it would not. “Mm, Tony,” he groaned against Tony’s mouth, gripping his arms tighter. “Tony, you’re drunk.”

“And you’re attractive. Any other obvious statements you’d like to make, Cap?”

Steve pulled him back, somewhat rolling his neck before meeting the other’s half-lidded eyes. “We can’t do this when you’re intoxicated.”

At the wording, Tony’s interest peaked. “And if I was sober?” The blond sighed. Tony moved his arm from the other’s grip and set his forehead on Steve’s chest. “I think”—he twisted his fingers into the fabric of the other man’s black shirt—“we should sleep together.”

Another sigh from the Captain.

“Tony….”

“I mean, you’re attractive and it’s obvious I am—”

“Tony.”

“It would be fun – you're not a virgin, are you?”

“Tony.”

A little more annoyance.

“I don’t care.” Tony stopped and took in a deep inhale, adjusting his head to press his cheek against Steve’s chest. Dropping his chest and shoulders, Steve hesitantly brought his up arms and put them around Tony, trying to get the younger man to relax. Shutting his eyes, Tony loosened up, allowing his body to ease as the barbiturate effect of the alcohol started to take over. He pressed up against the other’s chest, then relaxed again. “Stay tonight, then.” His voice started to sound distant as his coherency drained. “If you won’t sleep with me – and you’d be the first not to want to – does that sound bad?”

In response, Steve just rubbed his back and set his chin on the top of Stark’s head. “A little.” He smiled when he felt Stark lightly chuckle. “All right. I’ll stay.” Tony’s shoulders dropped. “But no more drinking, Stark.”

A throated grunt was all he received in reply.

He tightened his grip on the dark-haired male, continuing to rub his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Tony. I love working with Tony's alcoholism.  
> Working on projects while drinking, saying and doing stupid things, locking yourself away just to drink. 
> 
> Dark times, man.   
> Guess that's why I was drawn to Tony Stark from the very beginning. 
> 
> There's brilliance in the broken.


	5. Narcotic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony reflects on things he has done and things that have been said, but his primary focus lands on his childhood hero: Steve Rogers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! I'm back with the chapter (I'm sure) you've been waiting for!  
> Please don't hate me for it. m(__ __)m

**5:** **Narcotic**

 “Are you honestly asleep?”

Steve tightened his arms around Tony, whose breathing had gone even.

“Stark?” he pulled his head back to stare down at him. Patting his back, he said, “Tony?” He laughed an airy breath, realizing the other man was passed out. Kissing the top of his head, he hunched up his shoulders. “Come on.” He sat up and adjusted Stark to where he was holding him face up. Leaning over, he adjusted the other’s legs where they were on the couch and bent at the knee. “Let’s get you to bed.” Bending to stretch his arm to move under the base of Tony’s knees, he pulled him up so he could get a better hold on him. Once he was holding him where the incapacitated man was leaning against him, he stood, carrying him cradle-style. As he carried him out of the room, he could not help but make the mental note that, had Stark had been alone that night, he would have ended up passed out in his lab, which had him questioning how many times the billionaire wound up waking up on either the desk or the floor in his lab.

Even though all of the lights were off, the amass of windows in the bedroom allowed light from the outside stars and lunar to bask the room in a silver sheen, almost reflecting off of the white the room was covered in. As he sat Stark on the bed, keeping him vertical, he moved the sheets and the comforter out of the way before lying him down. He set his legs straight and grabbed the sheets he had moved out of the way to cover the younger man. Almost immediately, Stark released a groan and rolled onto his side, entangling himself in the sheets before going limp and silent.

Steve sat on the edge of the bed and set his elbows on his knees. Running his hands through his hair, he turned his head to glance back at the sleeping figure behind him, who had his back towards him, facing the windows viewing out. A chuckle caught in his throat when he recalled last week when he had to do a similar thing; the only difference was that he was not cleaning vomit from the other’s face and stuck having to change his clothes. That night, he felt as though he was taking care of a sick child. Granted, the original aggravation and humor he had found in the situation was replaced with remorse when he saw the still-healing wound on Stark’s hip.

A sense of letting down Howard shot through his mind, but he tried to shake it away.

He had nearly killed Howard Stark’s son.

Even now, he could still see the scene as it happened: him snapping Tony’s arm, hearing the crack and feeling the frailty of the other’s body; throwing his shield and seeing it make contact with Tony’s side, then watching the man hit the ground; and choking him, gripping his throat until his heartbeat was flush against his hand.

Despite trying to be convinced otherwise, he had this nagging feeling that the creature was only intensifying hidden emotions, but that did not even make sense. Sure, he and Stark had their differences and fought on more than one occasion, but he nothing so intense that he would desire to hurt him – not like that. Though, he was more than willing to admit that he had said things out of spite when things between them got heated, but nothing was ever bad enough to make him want to cause the other man that much damage.

Maybe a punch to the face, but that was about it.

He ran his hands though his hair again, only, this time, he faced the edge of the headboard that was being used as makeshift table. With his chin set on his knuckles, he mindlessly gazed at the items: the only thing on it was a folder and a pill bottle. Reaching out, he grabbed the bottle, only to find it to be a generic white bottle. When he could not find anything to determine what was inside, he opened the top and poured a few into his hand. Small and round with a small ‘V’ in the center of each of them, the word ‘valium’ was embedded into opposite side of each one.

The name sounded familiar, but he could not place it.

He put the pills back in the bottle and screwed the lid, setting it back down.

Turning back to face Tony, he set his hand on the blanket over the other’s hip. “I’ll be right back, Stark,” he said, barely above a whisper as rubbed his side before standing up.

Unfortunately, nature could not be ignored.

He left the room. Though he was sure there was another restroom, the only one he knew was the half-bath in the hallway outside the living room. The lights turned on when he entered, drenching it in bright light, to which his eyes took a moment to adjust. After he relieved himself, he momentarily searched for the knob to flush, but it did so once he stepped back. As he went to wash his hands, he caught his reflection in the mirror; ruffled hair and oddly alert eyes stared back at him. He shut the water off and used the small towel hanging on the edge of the sink to dry his hands. As he set it back down, he noticed that the mirror was slightly cockeyed. Curious, he pushed on the edge of it to find that it moved. Slipping his finger under the bottom of it, he pulled, discovering that it was, in fact, a mock cabinet; pill bottles and bottles of liquid were on the shelves inside. Glancing to the door, he went back to grab one of the liquid-containing bottles.

Tylenol PM was across the front.

He turned it over to read the back: when used as a sleep aid, avoid alcoholic beverages. There was also Nyquil, which had the same warning label. He set them back and grabbed one of the white pill bottles.

He read the label: Valium at forty milligrams per pill. Eyebrows pressed together, he put it back, only to grab another bottle, this one Rozerem at sixty milligrams a dose. His concern deepened when most of the other bottles were sleep-related: Lunesta, Ambien, Sonata and Xanax. He may not have known much about today’s society, but even he knew it was abnormal for one person to hold so many types of a similar narcotic.

Addictions were always present, no matter what era.

He put the bottle he had been holding back into the cabinet and shut it. Now even more curious, he left the bathroom – the lights shut off when he exited – and walked down the hall, back towards Tony’s bedroom. The Iron Man’s position had not changed since he had left the room earlier, proving that he was well passed out from the alcohol. Going around the bed to the opposite side, he climbed onto it and sat upright against the headboard as he set his hand on the other’s head. At least for the moment, he chose to ignore the curiosity coursing through his veins. He was fairly certain that Stark would kill him if he found out the Captain had been searching through his things. Letting his head fall to the side, he started running his fingers through Tony’s hair, silently chuckling at the hangover he knew Stark was going to have.

* * *

Tony leaned over the counter with the torch in hand, his goggles tight around his head as he was hardly an inch away. Quickly setting it down, he grabbed the metal rod sitting next to him to use to form the piece he was working on. In the midst of shaping it, the sensors around the lab began ringing, signaling someone’s arrival. Ignoring the noise, he kept his focus, trying to complete it before the alloy cooled. The noise echoing around the lab forced his headache to pound harder against his skull and he pressed his eyebrows together, trying to ignore it. The alarms finally stopped when the glass door to the lab slid open to introduce the supposed intruder.

He did not even bother to look up, still wanting to finish before he took a break.

From his peripheral vision, he could see Steve walking towards him, stopping behind him as he watched what the physicist was doing. Though not visible physically, Stark tensed, not being fond of having others looking over his shoulder, and because the memories of last night were still vivid in his mind. In any other instance, he would have passed it off, but he was kicking himself for allowing himself to feel and be seen as vulnerable.

Asking Steve to stay with him….

What had he been thinking?

Clearly, he had not been.

The regret hit him when he had woken up to find the Captain absent. Just like the week prior, he woke up to find himself in his bed. That had him question how far he had tried to take it with America’s first superhero; once the effects of the alcohol hit him, his sobriety drained rather quickly and he wondered how soon after that he passed out. Being clothed was a bonus, at least proving that, if he did try anything, Steve had not let it go too far. He did recall kissing him, but his order was screwed up. He could not recall what happened first: asking Steve to stay with him, telling Steve to sleep with him or kissing him.

He was really hoping he had that order messed up.

“ _And if I was sober?_ ”

He slammed down the torch, now aggravated with himself. Pulling his goggles down around his neck, he turned to look at the other presence.

“To what do I owe this appearance?” His impassive expression hid the thoughts running across his mind.

Steve shrugged as he gaze glanced to Tony’s current project. “Thought I’d come by and see how you’re feeling.” The shrug he was given in response let him know the hangover the younger man was experiencing, even if Tony’s intent was to keep it hidden. At the remorseful gaze behind the Captain’s eyes, Tony turned back to the table and took the goggles off to toss them on the table. When Stark did not respond after an allotted amount of time, especially for Tony Stark, Steve bit down on his jaw and followed up with, “Stark—”

“Tell me something, Rogers: what happened last night?” He set his hands on the table, leaning on it, hunching his shoulders and keeping his head facing down.

The silence unnerved him, but Steve merely shrugged. “Nothing.” He still failed to relax. “You fell asleep on the couch because you were drunk, that’s it.”

Tony nodded, his shoulders dropping.

He inhaled and pushed away from the table, standing. Turning to face the captain, his smirk turned cocky. “Why don’t we go upstairs? I could use a drink.”

When they got upstairs, this time Tony not needing Steve’s aid (though it took him a bit longer, since he had to move step-by-step), Tony stopped at the bar by the wall. Turning one of the unused glasses over, he could feel Steve’s gaze on him as he dropped some ice into it. He picked up a clear, crystal bottle, opened it and poured the glass completely full. Looking at the blond next to him, he motioned with the bottle. “Want some?” When Steve frowned, Tony shrugged, capped the bottle and set it back down; however, before he was able to take his glass, Steve snatched it off of the bar, leaving Tony to sigh with a slight frown tugging at the edges of his mouth.

“Relax, Spangle,” he said as Steve sniffed the glass. “It’s water,” He grabbed the glass back and took a sip.

The Captain’s demeanor failed to change, but he nodded, nonetheless. Watching Stark stagger his way to the couch, he felt his chest tighten, still feeling sheer regret that he had been the cause of it. However, one question that had been biting at him since last night was begging to come out, only he was debating whether or not to say it. Tony leaned back against the couch, propping his feet up on the coffee table and keeping the glass in his hand. He motioned with his head for Steve to sit next to him and the blond walked over to do just that. As he sat down, he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, staring at the black television screen straight ahead of him. Finally reaching the end of his contemplation, he inhaled and released a sigh: “Tony”—he could feel the other’s eyes turn to him—“there are people that care about you, you know.” He turned his head to meet Stark’s confused expression.

“Okay,” he drew out. “Random, but accurate.” He took another sip of his water. “People tend to care when you’re running most of the technological advances—”

“That’s not what I mean.” Tony’s eyebrows rose at being cut off. “I mean people care about _you_ – your well-being, not you because of your company.” Seeing the other suddenly seem uncomfortable, Steve sat straight, pressing his palms to his knees. “Do you honestly feel like your life means nothing?”

Tony shrugged and broke eye contact, going back to take another drink. “Now where would you come up with that? If you haven’t realized, Cap, I’m the CEO of my own company, fund The Avengers, make clean energy for all areas of the world – my life means everything.”

His usual overconfident smirk was met by Steve’s disbelieving and sympathetic expression. Another shrug from the genius.

“I saw all of the sleeping pills, Stark.”

An involuntary jerk in Tony’s shoulders had Steve know that he hit the right nerve.

“You know, even I can have insomnia, Rogers.”

“Damn it, Tony! Stop lying!” Steve found himself shouting in aggravation, making Tony tense up as he acted not to care, finishing the rest of his water. “Stop passing it off any time someone cares about you! Anytime you even think you’re getting close to someone, you start to push them away! You act cold, you act like you don’t care, but you do. You want everyone to think you don’t, because you think it’ll make you seem weak and that people will only leave you, but not everyone’s out to hurt you!”

He could feel his face growing red as he watched Stark stare down at his empty glass, completely and awkwardly silent.

“Stark.”

When Tony stopped swirling the ice around in the glass, he looked up at the blond, his eyes staring at his mouth rather than making contact. Leaning forward, Steve grabbed Tony’s neck with his right hand and pulled in to meet his mouth in a fairly aggressive kiss. Once Tony overcame the initial shock of America’s Golden Boy acting out of character, he shut his eyes to take advantage of the situation.

“You’re not drinking,” he said, hardly above a whisper as their foreheads pressed together.

With his heart pounding rapidly, Tony responded with, “If my memory serves me correctly, my intoxication was an issue. Something about if I wasn’t drunk?”

“Stark,” Steve responded, voice oddly flat, his hand gripping the side of Tony’s neck with a bit more force.

Tony gripped Steve’s shirt, his fingers digging into the fabric and gripping skin along with it as he lightly pressed forward to catch Steve’s mouth, only lightly; but when Steve suddenly tensed, Tony pulled back, watching Steve as he opened his eyes to meet his own. “You’re not ‘saving yourself’ or whatever, are you?” When Steve frowned, but failed to relax, Tony followed out with an oddly disappointed, “What? Because we’re both guys?” Still, his shoulders stayed tense, leading Tony to the only other conclusion. “No. It’s because of my dad.” When the older man released a breath, Tony knew he had it right and he released an aggravated sigh, completely pulling back, dropping his hands from where they were holding and moving away from the Captain’s grip, pushing his hand away. Now wanting to put distance between them, he shifted to the side to get up.

Steve fell back onto the couch as Tony stood, limping towards the bar against the wall. Grabbing a glass, he turned it right-side up and dropped a few ice cubes into it from the icebox on the side. As he poured himself a quad-shot of whiskey (which nearly filled the glass), he could hear Steve getting up from the couch and his feet on the floor as he walked over. Sensing him just standing behind him, Tony put the cap back on the bottle and set it down with more force than he intended. “What the hell do I know, right? This entire charade’s because of him, isn’t it?” He brought the glass up to his mouth, still keeping his back to the blond. When he failed to hear Steve respond, he kept talking, tone harsh, his heart racing in his chest, making the arc reactor give off an odd pulse. “Doesn’t surprise me.” He took a sip.  

“Stark—”

Tony shook his head and turned his head to look over his shoulder, but still did not look at the captain. “I assume you can show yourself out.”

That was all he said before moving from the bar to go down the hallway, passing the door that led down to the lab. He did not bother to turn around – to chance seeing Steve standing at the end of the hallway, watching him. Trying not to use the wall for support, to have some semblance of dignity, he made his way to his bedroom. With his elbows on his knees, he sat on the edge of his bed, staring into the whiskey-filled glass. When he heard footsteps coming down the hall, he scoffed to himself and brought the glass up, practically chugging it down before bringing it down. When he caught Steve entering the room from his peripheral vision, he took another drink, this time a sip.

“What?” he asked sarcastically, voice harsh. “Want to give a fake apology because your Good Ol’ Boy morals tell you to?” He still did not look up at him, not even when the blond approached him. “Look, I’m really not in the mood, Rogers. Go play hero somewhere else for the night.”

“Tony…,” Steve drew out as he stood in front of the man, who was staring at his now-half-gone glass. “I’m not doing this because of your father.”

Without missing a beat, the response came: “Then prove it.” Tony looked up to see Steve’s startled expression. “You want to tell me that you’re not thinking of him all the time, that it’s not the only reason you act to care, then show me.” He set down the glass on the section of the headboard that stuck out that he had been using as a table. He put his hands on the edge of the mattress and slightly leaned back. “Prove it to me.”

Inhaling with an awkward movement, Steve stepped forward and set one knee on the bed as he grabbed the back of Tony’s neck and pressed their mouths together. As Tony moved back onto the bed with Steve following his movements, he took his shirt off over his head and, when they went back to kissing after the small break, he began to unbutton the Captain’s plaid shirt. Steve’s hesitant hands were hesitant just to set on the sides of Stark’s abdomen, but Tony paid no heed, adrenaline rushing and making the arc reactor pulse to match. As Steve helped in taking his shirt, they broke apart and Tony fell back on the bed, watching the blond take his white t-shirt off, revealing his perfectly cut body, each muscle defined.

His pulse quickened just at the sight.

The times were far and few when a man could turn him on, let alone turn him on just at the mere sight. He reached his hand out to run it down the other’s chest, eyes mirroring an uncommon emotion. Bending back down, Steve kissed Tony’s neck, lightly sucking on the skin, having Tony shut his eyes as he put his hands on Steve’s shoulders. He found his own hands fumbling around with Steve’s belt, having him wonder when his hands had left the older man’s shoulders. As if following suit, Steve’s hands found their way to the band of Tony’s jeans, except Tony did not have a belt that he had to mess around with and he had Tony’s jeans unbuttoned and unzipped with one hand. Tony could tell at Steve’s hesitation as the blond slid his hand into his boxer briefs, lightly grabbing his groin.

Lifting his hips off of the bed, Stark pushed his own clothes down before kicking them off onto the floor. Steve’s mouth traced up to his jaw and back to his mouth; his hand ran over Stark’s abdomen. With things progressing, Tony’s breath caught in his throat as Steve’s tongue traced down his chest and stomach. “Damn it, Rogers,” he said, practically exasperated. Steve stopped and glanced up at him, only to see Tony swallow hard with his head pressed into the mattress. “Under the bed. Small box.” He felt Steve move and could hear him pull the box out from under the bed; its movement across the floor was a familiar sound.

“The bottle?”

“Yes, the bottle,” he responded with slight aggravation. At this point, he could not help but notice the change in his mental state, noting that the whiskey he had shot down was actually affecting him. When he felt Steve pull back up, Tony sat up and took the bottle of lubricant from him. Steve could only watch as Tony popped open the lid and poured some onto his fingers, and then used his own hand to coat his entrance, smearing it as he slid a finger into himself. Watching him, Steve’s gaze became wider and the apprehension he was experiencing became even more obvious. Shaking his head, he leaned back over Stark, having the man turn lay back down on the bed as he continued to prep himself by sliding in a second finger. Taking the bottle into his own hands, Steve mimicked Stark’s previous actions, then set the bottle down. When Tony felt Steve’s hand next to his own, he slid his fingers out and let the other take over.

Feeling Steve inside him, Tony could not help it; he groaned. His body shuttered when Steve’s middle finger was quick to follow his index.

It was not as though he, Tony, had never slept with a man before, but this was the first time the person he was with was someone he wanted to be with, if that made any sense at all.

Tony’s head pressed into the mattress when Steve inserted a third finger and hooked them, pressing against the wall. His hands found his way back up to the blonde’s forearms; his legs (or rather, right leg) spread open as he shoved himself down on Steve’s fingers.

“Come on, Cap.” His voice came out in a bit more of a whine than he anticipated. Without a word, Steve extracted his fingers and, with Tony assisting him with a hunger-filled gaze, extracted himself from the confinements of his slacks. Using more lubricant to coat his length, Steve was very careful when he pressed himself against Tony’s entrance and practically waited for the younger man’s confirmation that it was okay. When he only had the tip of the head in, Tony shifted to press himself all the way against Steve’s groin, getting the entire length buried inside him. Getting himself to relax, his cavity could not help but spasm against the size of the blond, giving a pressure in his stomach.

His throat went against his wishes and a guttural groan came out when Steve shifted.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked with his body leaning over Tony’s, seeing and feeling the man tense up; one hand was sitting on Stark’s uninjured leg and the other on the man’s shoulder.

“Less talking, more moving.”

He kept his eyes clamped shut when Steve began to slowly move in and out. He could not tell if the Captain’s caution was due to his, Stark’s, injury or because he just did not want to.

Who cared at this point?

He certainly did not.

He got what he wanted – hell, who was he kidding? He always got what he wanted.  

Steve’s mouth found its way back to his neck, to which Stark released a moan – neck biting always had been his weak point. With hard hands, his arms wrapped around the other’s back while one hand managed to get caught up in the blond man’s hair as Steve lightly pulled out and pushed back in. “You’re teasing me, Rogers,” he rasped right by Steve’s ear. He shifted his leg from being in an awkward position, making his hip twist. “You’re not gonna break me.” Steve pulled up and grabbed Tony’s right leg to lift it up – Tony aided in this process and his leg found its way to be slung over Steve’s shoulder.

A quick glimpse into Steve’s eyes had Tony’s pulse quicken and he immediately shut his eyes and fell back on the bed. The look in the other’s eyes – they were distant, thinking.

A look Tony would have easily taken for disappointment.

A look his father would have given—

No.

Now was not the time to think about that or reflect on the emotion he had caught in the Captain’s gaze. Just thinking about it made his blood boil and his veins pulse – his chest throbbed.

“God, enough with the child’s play!” he practically yelled out as he thrust himself back down on Steve’s length, making a throbbing pain shoot up into his stomach. “Please, Steve, just—” He was cut off by Steve pulling almost completely out, and then shoved himself entirely in, hitting Tony’s prostate, making the younger man practically cry in mid-sentence. Making it apparent that was the sensation he was hoping for, Steve repeated his actions, getting Stark to shudder as his fingers dug into the sheets beneath him. Making his body pull up, he wrapped his arms around the other’s shoulders, buried his head into his neck and dug his nails into his back. One of Steve’s hands was holding his thigh, which had gone from being over Steve’s shoulder to being partially hooked around his waist. His other leg was lying in a slight bend on the opposite side, still being careful, but, at the same time, not caring that the spread of his legs caused discomfort.

Even with his constant thrusts, Steve’s touches and movements were still gentle, careful and tentative; and as he continually hit Tony’s prostate over and over, the Iron Man’s breath was quick, panting, as throated moans kept coming out.

With anyone else, he would monitor his voice and not allow himself to sound like some hormone-driven woman with exasperated breaths and moan after moan; but, right now, he did not care. He did not care about the pain in his hip; he did not care about the fact that Steve said nothing; he did not care that nearing the end his body was so wracked with physical pleasure that his eyes betrayed him and a few bits of water fell from the corners of his eyes.

His body finally shuddered and his clasped onto Steve’s shoulders as he reached his point, spilling onto both of their stomachs. He expected Steve to finish, but when his body practically collapsed, surprise filled him when Steve just wrapped his arms around his back and moved to pull him back and lay him down on the bed. Stark sunk into the mattress when Steve pulled out. The older gent leaned down and, with his hand on Tony’s head, kissed his forehead.

He wanted to ask why Steve felt as though he did not have to get off, but his mental capacity was drained, still swimming from the effects of having the Captain’s length completely inside him. His stomach hurt, his rectum throbbed – damn. He was going to be sore in the morning. Moving in an awkward way, he moved up on the bed to where his head was at the top.

His body was almost numb.

Steve helped get the covers out from under him after he apparently zipped and buttoned himself up.

Not a word was said.

And as Tony allowed himself to sink into the mattress, he heard Steve’s footsteps leave the room and the feeling of the empty presence was left lingering in the air. In his last states of consciousness, his mind flipped over-and-over itself.

He thought he had fucked up before?

That was nothing.

Regret washed over him and the last thoughts of any joy disappeared from his mind as he drifted off, alone once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh...how many laser pointers are one me? (^ ^*)


	6. Preservation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony reflects on things he has done and things that have been said, but his primary focus lands on his childhood hero: Steve Rogers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we go.  
> The last bit up and running. 
> 
> Hope you like it and it was worth the read!

**6:** **Preservation**

Steve sat on the couch in the living room, his elbows sitting on his knees as he hands held each other – his chin was set on his outstretched thumbs. Already dressed from his earlier excursion, his mind raced. Tony was asleep and, though he knew he should have stayed, he could not bring himself to do so.

He felt guilty.

There was no other term he could think to use.

He had been trying to convince Tony that he was not comparing him to his father, that he saw Tony for being _Tony_ ; yet, in his mind, he would continually find things that the younger Stark did that would mirror the elder. It was unnerving, to say the least. The question he kept asking himself was who was he trying to convince?

Tony or himself?

Tony hated his father – he made that perfectly clear on multiple occasions – but, at the same time, he was growing annoyed with him because Tony could not understand that Howard had still been there for Steve.

He shook his head and ran his hands through his hair to the back of his neck. He really needed to stop comparing the two.

But he did not feel about Howard how he felt about his son: that was one thing that he knew for a fact. Yes, Mr. Stark was his role model and his idol; he had been there for him when Steve had no one and believed in him, helped him; but he was more of a father-figure than anything else. On the other hand, Tony was completely the opposite. He did admire the Iron Man, but the way he felt towards Tony was more of a protector – did that sound bad? He wanted to look out for the man, protect him and keep him safe. Not because he felt indebted to Howard, but because there was something about Tony that he just felt he needed to keep safe. He wanted to be there for him and to keep him from self-destructing. His entire life, he had always been the one to look up to people, never be the person being looked up to – or he never felt like people looked up to him. Not as Captain America, but as Steve Rogers.

The nerdy kid from Brooklyn who only had aspirations, but never the capability.

And that was what Tony Stark, the man who had everything and only admired himself, did. Tony actually looked up to _him_ – Steve Rogers – not America’s First Super Soldier.

Perhaps that was why he was so apprehensive around him; because he did not want to disappoint him.

He scoffed.

Disappoint him.

That was exactly what he did.

And now he was sitting in Stark’s living room, avoiding going back to the bedroom because he did not want to face the feeling of shame.

Damn it all.

Why did he have to feel this way towards the one person he probably should not? Then again, why should he feel bad? Tony wanted it and, though in the beginning Steve had tried telling himself otherwise, so did he. That was not the way he had ever intended going about it – just to prove to Tony that he did not care about him solely due to his father. No, he had wanted the first time with the man to be special and memorable – like intimacy was supposed to be.

The thought made him laugh.

It would be memorable, all right.

He had to go back. Regret or whatever, he could not just leave Tony alone. The man had enough people abandon him in his lifetime; the last thing he wanted was to make Tony think he was not going to be any different. Gathering up the will to do it, he stood up with a long sigh and made his way back down the hall towards the bedroom. When he walked into the room and slowly shut the door behind him, he called Stark’s name, only to find out that the man was already asleep. His chest suddenly felt even heavier.

He shook his head.

Spotting the half-empty glass still sitting on the makeshift table, he picked it up half-mindlessly as he stared down at Tony’s sleeping form. Setting his hand on the other’s head, he let his mind wander to places he knew naught.

* * *

A loud curse echoed around the lab, followed by a crash and the sound of a fire extinguisher. The charger Tony had been working on had shot off of the table and crashed into a stack of metal sheets; flames flickered on top of the pile, which Dummy had made sure to douse. Tony dropped the torch onto the counter, set his elbows onto the table and ran his hands through his hair, sighing in aggravation. That was the third attempt that resulted in a malfunction. He could not seem to get his mind to stop thinking about other subjects for five minutes and it constantly resulted in minor errors on his part that did not end up being minor once he was close to being done. He looked at the area where the charger had shot off to. Foam was now sitting on it and the pile of scraps and he debated whether or not to actually get it and continue working on it.

He clicked his tongue and used the table to push himself to his feet as he limped over to get it. He had to use the beam running through the lab to bend down to get it and tossed it onto the counter. When he stood, he felt his hip pop, which had him ending up on the floor and another string of curses flow out of his mouth. Instead of getting up, he fell back on the floor, staring up at the ceiling.

Maybe he could just lay here for a few hours and get his thoughts in order.

He shut his eyes, feeling the cold floor beneath him.

A memory of night-before last night ran through his head: he saw Steve leaning over him with a nearly-emotionless expression, his eyes shining in a familiar look of disappointment.

His eyes opened to look back up. Catching movement from the corner of his eye, he saw Dummy with its arm leaning over him. He held up his hand. “Don’t even think about it.” It lowered its arm and Tony could sense the discontent emitting from the A.I unit. When it raised its arm again as Tony moved to sit up, his hands shot back up again. “Ah! No.” The unit whirred. “No, shoo.” It slowly backed off, but not entirely; so when Tony’s hand grabbed the translucent beam and Dummy’s arm raised, he waved his arm behind him. “I swear I’ll take you apart. Back.” Another whir before the unit rolled backwards away from him. Tony hoisted himself up, careful not to put pressure on his hip.

Moving back over to the table, he sat back down on the stool, snatched the charger and the torch and began fixing his mistake for the fourth time.

Getting up yesterday morning, he was having a difficult time realizing why his body was ached. His hip and leg were experiencing a stabbing pain and his lower back and butt were sore with a throbbing discomfort. For the first minute, he thought he was experiencing ripples from a dream, but when he went to roll onto his side, it became obvious that he truly was aching from the previous night. He had honestly thought he had dreamt the whole thing, so when he woke alone, his regret came crashing down.

What had he have been thinking?

He short of blackmailed the Golden Boy to sleep with him and the only thing it accomplished was getting him to hate himself even more. There was no way Steve would even be able to stand being in the same room with him, let alone work together for the Avengers.

The charger sparked and a red-hot shard of metal came up and hit Tony in the corner of his eye – the one part where the goggles did not protect. Another curse and he ripped off the goggles and threw them down as he clamping his eyes shut and held the area where he had been hit. Shoving himself back from the table again, he kept the palm of his hand on the shard in his face and grabbed the beam with his other hand to move out of the lab. Another curse when his knee slammed into the wall at the bottom of the stairs outside of the lab; he managed to catch his balance on the rail. Step-by-step, he went up, still being mindful of his hip. Knowing there were no tweezers in the guest bath, he had to go to his bathroom, which was connected to the master bedroom.

The lights reflected off of the white marble and tile when he walked in, nearly blinding him from having come in through the semi-dark bedroom. He pulled the drawer open by the sink, rifling through it before finding and extracting the silver tweezers. Uncovering his eye, he leaned close to the mirror to see the small piece of shrapnel sticking out of the corner of his cheek, right below his eye. Bringing up the tweezers, he tried to grab it; steadying his hands, he managed to grip the small shard and pull it out, leaving nothing but a small dab of blood. Inspecting the piece, he flicked it off into the metal trash bin, and then tossed the tweezers back into the drawer. Once he wiped the small droplet away with a piece of tissue, it was quick to follow the shard into the trash bin.

Not long after he left the restroom, the lights shut off and he was standing in his dim bedroom, staring at the bed. Too many memories from the night before last. The pain and the pleasure at the same time, mixed with the feelings of shame and regret. He had not seen or talked to Steve in two days. Not that he found that surprising – of course the Captain would be avoiding him, why would he not? He contemplated on contacting him, say for some stupid reason, but he could not bring himself to do it. Last night, after a video conference with Thorton Enterprises, which were now on good terms with Stark Industries, Tony took the liberty of making sure he slept that night with a balanced diet of alcohol and sleeping narcotics. Even doped up, it was still a restless night and he ended up waking up early that morning.

Since, he had been dragging through the day, still half-zoned out.

It was nice he had nothing on his schedule; granted, most of the reason was due to Pepper, who had been making sure to keep him out of the public eye until he was healed up enough to where he was not limping from point A to B.

He had a feeling that tonight was going to be much like last night.

Making sure he did not stray too far from the wall, he made his way to the bar in the main room. Grabbing a glass and adding in the ice, once he had a generous amount of Silver tequila, he re-corked the bottle and took a sip. He half-turned towards the hallway, and then, after contemplating it, snatched the glass bottle, which was still nearly full, and made his way back to the master bedroom. He set the bottle on the makeshift bedside table, but carried his glass back into the restroom. Still holding it, he sat on the edge of the shower tub, took another sit, and then leaned over to turn on the faucet. Making sure he had the water at a preferable temperature, he plugged the drain and stood up.

He rarely took baths – mainly for the fact he was not fond of sitting in stale water for allotted amounts of time – but he felt different tonight. Knocking back the vast majority of his drink in a triple shot, he went back to the bedroom to get the bottle. Setting the glass down next to it beforehand, he stripped all but his briefs before taking the alcohol and the bottle to the bathroom with him. He set the items on the side of the tub, then took off his last article of clothing to step into the nearly-filled tub. Once his weight displaced the water, however, there was enough to shut off the water and still have enough.

A hot bath and enough alcohol to make even the most tolerant person blackout.

Perfect.

He picked up the glass and killed off what was left before pouring himself another.

* * *

Steve stood by his bike outside, staring up at Stark’s house outside of Manhattan and its many windows. Light from the starlit sky reflected off of the black-tinted windows, meaning either Stark was already passed out or the windows were on a set program. He had done the same thing last night – finding himself sitting outside, debating whether or not to go in. Granted, he did have an excuse yesterday. There had been a bank robbery at the Bank of America in central New York City while he had been inside with Banner talking to one of the off-duty clerks for information on a teller that had gone missing (the person that had been the “teller” for the past few weeks ended up being a skrull – not that they told the clerk that). Unfortunately, the robbery ended up being a standoff when the police arrived sooner than expected and it took a while for Steve and Bruce to figure out how to go about apprehending the offenders without getting anyone shot or killed. The standoff lasted nearly six hours before they had an opening.

It ended with one of the offenders having a broken arm from where Steve snapped it when the man went to discharge his weapon after a lady had crawled from the main room to a corner to access her cellphone. The other man was left with a bruised abdomen when he went to aid his ally and Banner took the opportunity to elbow the man in the stomach, which was followed up by an elbow on the back of his neck when he keeled over.

It was midnight when the Captain found himself outside of Stark’s house, debating whether or not to go in. He had decided against it and went back to Stark Tower; Banner and Clint asked him if he had spoken with the Iron Man (Natasha was on assignment somewhere in Germany), but he waved them off.

No one would know what had conspired between them and there was no reason for them to.

Tonight had to be different, though. He was going to go in, no matter if his brain and heart were conflicting.

His mind reflected back on all of the pills he had found in Stark’s restroom, which had him concerned. None of them had spoken with Tony since that night. Banner was due to stop by the following day to help remodel the Iron Man suit and make a new prototype for a phoneless phone (there was logic there somewhere). Leaving his bike, he walked up the sloped sidewalk leading to the main door. On the side of the door was a fingerprint recognition piece of software, which he did and the door unlocked. When he walked in the door and shut it behind him, JARVIS came over the com.

“ _Welcome, Mr. Rogers. I don’t believe Mr. Stark was expecting company this evening._ ”

Steve took off his brown bomber jacket as he walked into the living room. “Just figured I’d stop by and see how he’s doing.” He set the jacket on the arm of the couch as he looked around.

“ _Should I alert Mr. Stark to your arrival?_ ”

“No, that’s not necessary.” He set his hands on his hips as he walked towards the stairs. “Is Tony in the lab?”

“ _No, sir._ ” Steve frowned. “ _He is currently in the master bath._ ”

Steve nodded and moved to walk down the hall. “Thank you, JARVIS.”

“ _You’re very welcome, sir._ ”

The hallway was dark leading to Tony’s bedroom and even when he entered the room it was mostly dark with only the light from the outside skies giving off a white light in the room. To the left at the end of the room was the door leading to the master bath; light leaked from underneath it. He sighed and figured to wait for Tony to finish whatever it was that he was doing. Instead, he sat down on the edge of the bed and set his elbows on his knees. Shutting his eyes, he recalled the night before last: seeing Tony in a way he never had, he did not want the man to think that everything was because of Howard, but that was such a pathetic excuse. The fact of the matter was that he wanted to sleep with Tony, but not in that manner.

He opened his eyes, recalling the younger man’s more-than-likely-infamous box and the other one that had been next to it. Curiosity reigned and he got off the bed to go back under it and search for it. The other was a lidded shoebox, which he grabbed and slid out. Ethics bit at him: he really should respect Tony’s privacy. Stopping his hands on the lid, he clamped down on his jaw.

He wanted to know.

Really wanted to know.

Tossing his morals aside, he took the lid off and set it to the side, only to see an excessive amount of prescription pills for prescription and anxiety. Many of the bottles were only half full. Steve frowned, put the lid back on the box and slid it back under the bed. Standing, he glanced back to the bathroom door, listening for movement.

Nothing.

Perhaps he should speed the man up; he really wanted to talk to him.

Approaching the door, he knocked on it.

“Stark, can you finish up? I need to talk to you.” He waited for a response, but when he received none, he knocked again, this time setting his forehead on the door. “Tony, please.” There was still no reply. He pressed his ear to the door, listening.

Only silence lay beyond.

Knitting his eyebrows together, he set his hand on the handle and knocked with the other one more time. “Is everything okay?” The silence was going to drive him crazy. “Tony, if you don’t answer me, I’m coming in.” Another pause followed by more silence. “All right. I hope you’re decent.” He turned the handle and lightly pushed the door open, expecting Stark’s voice to bounce off of the walls for him to wait and that he would be out in a minute.

Instead, he was nearly blinded by the lights reflecting off of the solid white surfaces. He squinted his eyes and let them quickly adjust, only to fully push the door open and stare with a dropped jaw at the bathtub.

Tony was passed out, slumping in the water with his left arm dangling over the edge. The bottle of Silver patron was empty on the floor and the glass broken on the floor where Tony’s hand hovered just above it.

“Tony!” Steve cried out as he ran to the edge of the bathtub and dropped down. Entire body trembling, he leaned down to slide his arms into the water under Tony’s back and thighs to lift him out of the tub. Water poured down every curvature of his body as he fell to a kneel, moving to hold Tony’s upper body up. “Tony!” He ran his hand over his face, pushing his wet hair back. Setting his fingers on his neck, he felt a pulse – not a faint pulse, but a strong one, proving that Stark had simply passed out from the alcohol. A sigh left his throat and he pulled Tony against his chest into a hug. “You’re such an idiot, Stark.”

His heart jumped and he pulled back, staring down at the man below him. Unlike the prior night, seeing Tony completely exposed made him realize how vulnerable the eccentric billionaire truly was. It was one thing suspecting it; it was another thing to see it. Eyes digging into the Iron Man, the severity hit him and his chest throbbed. This was not Howard Stark’s son – this was Tony Stark, a man within his own right. He had kept trying to see passed that, but he had not been able to. Every time he would look at Tony, even though he would deny it, not just to him, but to himself, he could not help but see Howard.

No.

This was Tony – an amazing man with a great intellect, great ability and a _selfless human being_. 

Anger built in his stomach.

Why could Tony not see the great man he was?

Shaking his head, he quickly looked around to see a towel sitting on the counter. Grabbing it, he used it to wrap it around Tony’s naked body, and then pressed his lips to Tony’s forehead, shutting his eyes.

“Why don’t you understand?”

He rocked the younger man back and forth for a few minutes, then adjusted his hold and used the towel to dry the younger man off. While he was rubbing his hair dry, Tony groaned and rolled his head, pressing against Steve as his eyes opened to slits with his eyebrows pressed and causing deep creases in his forehead. Seeming to have a difficult time trying to focus against the bright light reflecting off the white tile and marble surfaces, his mouth twitched into an emotionless half-smile. “Hey, Cap,” he muttered as he relaxed, appearing as though he believed the image was an illusion.

Steve dropped his shoulders and looked back at Tony with a soft smile his ally’s eyes fell closed, again. “Tony, you’re an idiot,” was the only thing he could respond. He rubbed his hair lightly with the towel and Tony fell back limp, passing back out. Once he had Tony reasonably dry, he picked him up as though carrying a child, as he had done multiple times, to get him onto a softer surface. He entered Tony’s bedroom and moved him back over to the bed, lying him down with the towel over his hips and groin. The dresser against the wall at the end of the bed held Tony’s casual clothes, which mainly came down to his sleepwear and undergarments; a few white shirts were folded in the same drawer, but Steve knew from previous experience that the other drawers held random paraphernalia. Boxer-briefs, gray sweatpants and a white wife-beater were taken from the only drawer containing clothing articles and he went back to Tony, sitting on the edge facing him. Setting his hand on Tony’s leg, he watched his sleeping face for a minute, shaking his head. “You’re like a child.” Doing his best to keep Tony’s modesty (though he doubted the man had any), he left the towel covering him as he got him dressed; a section of the towel was kept under the band of the briefs, which he pulled out before getting Tony into the sweatpants, careful not to move his hip in an odd direction. The arc reactor pulsed, which he could not help but notice as he slid the shirt over his head.

He shifted the covers after he had Tony lying down with his head on the pillow, but, unlike the usual nights where he had put Stark to bed from being passed out drunk, he moved around the bed to climb onto it and lay next to him. Grabbing the covers, he pulled them over both of them. Now under them, he slid his arm under Tony’s upper back and pulled him to where half of his upper body was lying on his chest. Subconsciously feeling contact, Tony’s arm went around Steve’s abdomen, then relaxed, breathing completely even. Steve tightened his grip around Tony’s shoulders, sighing as he let his head fall back on the pillow and stared at the ceiling.

All of the pills.

All of the alcohol.

All of the times Tony had more-than-likely combined the two.

He deserved so much more than that.

Steve gripped Tony tighter as he kissed the top of the man’s head. He was not going to leave Tony again, not tonight. He wanted to be there when Tony woke up, even if he fell asleep and woke up before the younger man, he swore to himself that he would stay. Stark deserved at least that much.

Not again – he would not leave the man alone again.

_**~End** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's all she wrote, folks!  
> Please let me know what you thought and thanks for reading! (^ ^*)

**Author's Note:**

> Initially, this was only gonna be a one-shot - what with Tony's alcoholism and depression being the main focus, all while trying to act as though he is perfectly mentally sound. 
> 
> Anywho,  
> please let me know if you like it! (^ ^*)


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